Travel and Pilgrimage – A Place Called Anandahttp://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda
A blog by disciples of Paramhansa YoganandaWed, 07 Dec 2016 23:49:48 +0000en-UShourly1Ananda Village: Miracles All Around!http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/7186/ananda-village/
http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/7186/ananda-village/#commentsTue, 08 Mar 2016 22:39:54 +0000http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/?p=7186Who would not want to visit the Ananda village, especially after watching the Finding Happiness movie? By the grace of our gurus and master, I got the opportunity to be at Ananda Village for a few hours on a pleasant Tuesday in March.

I started early from San Francisco at 7 am hoping to get to Ananda by 11. The only pit stop during this long drive was a 5-minute break at the gas station, which is the only time I could have talked (as I’d better not talk while driving, that too with the phone being used to give directions on its GPS). And that is the exact time that my thankful host Omprakash-ji called me on phone to decide where to meet once I reach Ananda Village. It went unnoticed at that time, but that perfect timing was Miracle number 1.

The cell phone reception in Ananda Village is not very reliable. I was not able to reach Omprakash-ji. So when I tentatively walked in to the reception at the Master’s Market, Miracle 2 was in action. Just then, Omprakash-ji had called at the reception asking if I had arrived. I was just getting the sense of how things work at Ananda Village — Miracle here is the order of the day!

And why wouldn’t it be a place for miracles? There are many levels at which we can see the inspirational source at Ananda Village. At the physical level, we all know or have heard of the different meditation places spread all around — from the Hansa temple, the Lahiri Shrine, Expanding Light Retreat temple, Master’s museum, the Crystal hermitage, and of course, the Moksha Mandir (and perhaps many others that I did not get a chance to visit).

At an observation level are the joy, the energy and the harmony that exists all around the village community. In just a quick tour we get to see how much care and love emanates from each activity that the community members do as part of their daily chore. You would see gurubhais planting seeds at the garden, fixing the roads, cleaning the closet, wiping the dining room floor — with utmost joy and in complete harmony. Going deeper, at the level of feeling, one realizes that for these community members, Ananda Village is the child that the mother cares for, with so much tender love, and at the same time, the Village is the mother for them that they as child desire so affectionately. This is a perfect example of the highest level of Service in everything that the community members do.

So it is not that the Ananda Village community members meditate and the other worldly things are done by someone else. In fact each bit of what Ananda Village today, is has a story of how much positive energy and blessings have been put in it by the community members. No wonder there are many stories about how the shape of the dome of the Hansa Temple came up, how the roads were paved, how the glass art was done at the chapel, how the tulips are grown (oh yes, Omprakash-ji also mentioned that soon Ananda Village will be blooming with tulips everywhere — so much that people from all around San Francisco come and visit here. No wonder, with so much love, even the tulips would want to bloom a plenty here).

The Ananda Village is also abuzz with activity. Some people were watching Swamiji’s talk in the audio-video room (next to the dining area) at 11:30. Some were walking up for a guided meditation going at the Hansa Temple at 12; at 12:30 you would see the prayer at lunch hall; someone meditating at the Lahiri Shrine at 2; and many other such activities.

And by the way, the miracles never stopped. Omprakash-ji had to leave for the school at 12:30 and he was waiting for Nayaswamis Gyandev and Diksha to come. He says, “Lets go out and see, they must be on their way.” And out we go and see Nayaswamis Gyandev and Diksha miraculously walking towards us from a distance. The place has no cell-phone coverage but everyone seems connected!

I saw each community member busy in their activity, completely focused — whether decorating the boutique or sorting out the mails, managing the guests, or planning a retreat, among the many others. However, everyone I met was so helpful in showing me around the place or talking about the history associated with it and showed no signs of being busy. I was overwhelmed by the amount of time, care and oneness with which they showed me around. It was heartening to know that they care so much for a stranger like me — or perhaps no one is a stranger at Ananda Village.

Just when I was thinking that I now know what a magical place Ananda Village is and that I have figured out the value of this trip, that was actually only scratching the surface. For some reason I started to weep with joy in the car on my way back to San Francisco.

The love and compassion with which each of the Ananda Village community members interacted with me was only making me realize how deep it really goes. This amazing uplifting feeling of pure joy, love and energy is still sinking in (or rather, growing) each day! No wonder everyone told me it was going to be a life-changing experience.

Amit had asked me to collect statues of our gurus from Omprakash-ji, for use in Rishikesh. They were a bit heavy and I was wondering if they would fit within the allowed luggage limit of 23 kgs at the airline check-in to India. When I packed the suitcase, it did feel pretty heavy. But having no access to the weighing scale at the hotel, I just took the suitcase to the airport. And guess what was the weight when the airline check-in staff measured it. Exactly 23 kgs — not a gram more or less.

Neither miracles nor the bonding end at Ananda Village, I thought and smiled. That was just a beginning.

Pilgrimage is unpredictable. You leave home with an idea in your mind of what your heart is longing to see, where you expect to have your most meaningful moments. God laughs and gives what He knows you need.

I spoke of this trip as going to Jerusalem. Among other reasons, that was why I was so intent on joining the group on time. The trip began in Jerusalem.

As it happened, there was unpredictable violence and with a (welcome) excess of caution, our tour company changed the itinerary to avoid the Old City in those first days. I missed Ain Karim (where Mary and Elisabeth met), the Mount of Olives (which they only drove around but did not walk through), and Gethsemene. Important places for sure, but in the whole flow of the pilgrimage, I don’t feel deprived.

Also because of the random acts of violence in the country, we exchanged one night in Jerusalem for an extra day in Galilee.

Which, as it turned out, was God’s perfect plan. Jerusalem has been profound, but Galilee is my home with Jesus.

Especially Mount Tabor, the Mount of Transfiguration. It was here Jesus took a few of his disciples to witness a divine vision. Jesus was transformed into light and beside him stood Elijah and Moses.

Here is Swamiji’s song:

The man that was Jesus had shown his pure form.Upon a high mountain he stood, transfigured in light.That his chosen might see that he was the Christ.Ah, hope of all hope! Ah, joy of all joy!Toward Thee we aspire, who believe in Thy word.
Also dedicated to the Transfiguration is the song, “When Human Hopes Toward Thee Aspire.”

As you would expect, all through Israel there are mobs of pilgrims from all countries and denominations. The final ascent up Mount Tabor is a switch-back road, too winding for the buses, so you stop at a taxi stand and wait till a mini-bus can take you up.

Arriving at the top of the hill we were listening to the Mass in several languages as well as the general hubbub of so many visitors. We’ve grown used to it and are getting good at tuning it out. We luckily found a quiet spot on the outside of the church, where we could sing the appropriate songs and hear our own voices.

After the singing, the group went off to have a Purification Ceremony, but it was my moment and I sat against the wall, in a deep, immoveable silence.

The site closes from noon to four, and as we approached the noon hour, the hilltop vacated till our group was virtually alone.

At every site there is at least one, often multiple churches (different denominations). The churches themselves (to me) are usually not of interest. Meditating in or outside of them is more a question of convenience or quiet than beauty or vibrations. Not so on the Mount of Transfiguration.

The architecture was guided by the spirit of Christ. It is an enormous structure, but so elegant in its design and decoration that it gave even more inspiration to the experience.

After a time I wandered into the church, empty except for a few of us meditating there, and silent in a way that gave new meaning to the word. Not merely the absence of sound. It was the living proof of the Biblical promise, “Be still and know that I am God.”

In various places there were glass panels on the floor revealing the bedrock underneath where, presumably, Jesus stood with his disciples at the moment of divine revelation.

Finally, it was going to be lunch hour for the taxi drivers and we had to take the last ride down the hill. Reluctantly, so reluctantly, we left.

From Mt. Tabor we went to Nazareth, where the angel appeared to Mary and told her she would be the mother of Jesus.

For this site, Swamiji wrote:

God is Truth; God is Love;Father, Mother, both are one.When our hearts cry out in pain,Mother, bring us peace again!Every moth brings to birthHints of Thy love for all the earth.

Also this:

To Mary there came an angel of lightWho announced the will of the Lord.Her purity blessed mankind with new life:Through Mary, the light descended.O God of peace! O God of Joy!May our souls find their freedom in Thee!

The church is built over a stone dwelling, a converted cave, which is believed to be the house where Mary lived and where the angel spoke to her.

The church itself is immense and entirely lacking in the inspiration we found in the architecture of the church of Mt. Tabor. To further complicate the experience, there is a huge organ and our visit coincided with the practice hour for the organist. The instrument was amazing, his skill impressive, but his taste in music wasn’t my own. His theme seemed to be the battle of light and darkness and I had the impression that darkness was winning. (To be fair, others thought the music was fabulous and could have listened to him play all day! “Every atom of creation is dowered with individuality.” Each of us follows a unique karmic thread to the same divine goal!)

Still, the site of Mary’s simple home and the realization of what a profound event took place on that site transcended all other considerations and sweet silence existed inwardly in the midst of everything.

Our last day in Galilee we again went out on the water before dawn. There was no mist and we had an unobstructed view of the brilliant orb of the sun coming over the hills surrounding the lake, its rays streaking out over the water, as if reaching out to bless us in the boat as we silently watched (and inwardly applauded) Divine Mother’s show.

We were heading back to Jerusalem with two stops along the way. First in Tzfat (also spelled Zafed, Safed), the home for centuries of mystical Judaism. Some time ago enlightened rabbis settled there and over the years it has become the center in Israel for the study of the Kabbalah. It is also an artists colony. Altogether very interesting.

Our guide, Marty — an enthusiastic, giving, highly knowledgeable man — took us to meet a particular artist/teacher. Like so many Israelis, this man was born in America and emigrated later. He gave us a fascinating introductory class on the Kabbalah, illustrated with some of the many mandala-like pieces of art he has created.

Beautiful art. Wise and loving man. Fascinating subject. It helped all of us to feel more clear about the ancient and present reality of Judaism.

A little time to wander through the shopping area — filled with lovely artistic pieces. Feast for the heart and for the eyes.

Marty is very knowledgeable about the history of Israel and how it links to the Old Testament. This country gives a whole new perspective on the word “old.” We visited an archeological site called Meggido. This is a hilltop near a key canyon on a critical road through the country.

It is mentioned in the Bible several times as well as other historical texts. Archeologists have uncovered 24 different distinct cities all built on the same strategic hill.

I’m not much for piles of old rocks, but this was truly impressive!

In the song Swamiji wrote for the crucifixion of Jesus — “You Remain Our Friend” — which we sing every week, there is this line, “Though eternally rejected, you remain our Friend.”

Seeing the grand sweep of history and how mankind has acted out over and over again essentially the same story of conquest and defeat…. well, to quote Bertie Wooster (i.e., P. G. Wodehouse), “It makes you think a bit!”

Once we reach the human level, Master tells us, we have the freedom to wander in delusion for as long as we choose. Not that all 24 of those cities were built by the same souls but one can well imagine a cycle of defeat and revenge and victory and defeat being acted out through reincarnation quite a few times before the soul is ready to move on.

By the way, some of you may not have remembered that “You Remain Our Friend” was inspired by Swamiji’s visit to the Holy Sepulcher (the place where Jesus was crucified). Swamiji says that “When praying for a melody that would express, for me, the mood of Christ’s crucifixion, I concentrated on compassion, and on unconditional love.” It makes it ideal for weekly reaffirmation of our relationship with God and God’s relationship with us.

Now, Jerusalem.

Our guide is an observant Jew. Which means from sundown on Friday till sundown on Saturday, among other things, he doesn’t use any mechanical devices. He doesn’t use a car or a bus, but only goes places that he can walk to.

We were happy to have a religious person as a guide and accommodated our schedule to his needs. Which meant that we went into the old city — within walking distance of our hotel — on our second day in the city, so that Marty could go with us.

The first day we used the bus and went to the Museum of Israel.

I am not big on museums but on pilgrimage part of the sadhana is to say an enthusiastic “yes” to whatever God brings. Fortunately, He knows better than me.

This is one of the premier museums in the world — and well-deserves its reputation. To begin with, they have “immortalized their ideals in architecture.” It is beautifully laid out and every exhibit is exquisite. Only the best is on display and everything is perfectly displayed.

They have all kinds of collections, so I’ll just mention a few.

The Dead Sea Scrolls (or copies) are on display. The building in which you view them is designed to match the clay pot in which the scrolls were found. On an immense scale, of course. But when you look up from the fascinating exhibits you are inside a clay pot, with a rising curving roof and the circular pattern of how the clay was formed. And downstairs you are inside a cave where the pots were discovered.

Magnificent.

Here also there is a scale model of Jerusalem as it is presumed to have been at the time of Jesus. The son of a wealthy man was killed during the war of Independence in 1948 and the father built this model as a memorial to his son. Every building is made out of stone, laid out across a large hill outside, at a scale (I think) of 1:50.

So before we went into the Old City, we got a view of how it had been before.

Most impressive was the immensity of the Temple that was there at the time of Jesus. You could see why the sincere devotees of that time attracted to them one who would reform and renew their faith. The mere size of the Temple compound spoke so much about worldly power and wealth. Oh my. Quite a contrast to the simple “love God, be ye like little children” message of Jesus.

Wandering on our own in the museum I randomly found my way to the European art section where I found a Rembrandt painting, “Peter in Prison.”

There is a reason why some art is revered through the ages. This is one of those pieces. This was not the final imprisonment for Peter, but the time he was miraculously freed by angels. But before he was freed, when he didn’t know the miracle was coming.

You can look the painting up on the internet. Even there you can see what an exquisite piece of art it is.

Right near it in the museum was a carving done from ivory and ebony, plus a little metal and glass. The subject was Abraham about to sacrifice his son Isaac. Isaac is bound and the fire is laid. Abraham has raised his sword to strike Isaac but there is an angel above him, hand outstretched just about to stop him. That is the moment captured in this exquisite piece. It was made by an artist whose name I can’t remember sometime in the 1700s. (When I tried to find it on the internet I wasn’t able to.)

And these were just two pieces in an immense warren of galleries.

In the afternoon of that day we went out into a nearby woods and made pita bread over an open fire which we consumed with olive oil, an herbal mix of sesame seed and hyssop, and, for a total change of pace, Nutella if you preferred. Child-like fun.

Friday night we were invited to the home of a family in Jerusalem to celebrate the Sabbath. It is an American couple, Hillel and Chaya, who founded and run the Sheval Center. They are also transplanted Americans. He is an orthodox rabbi and she is a writer and artist. They are both therapists and are pioneering a style of Jewish life that is orthodox in its beliefs and practices but speaks also to the needs of the time.

Every Friday evening they have tourists groups from all over the world into their home to share the Sabbath dinner, prayers, songs.

Having grown up with some of these rituals I admit I wasn’t all that interested in this event, but saying “yes” (and meaning it with one’s whole heart) is pilgrimage, so I was happily present for what turned out to be a deeply touching evening.

They have four children. The oldest are 8-year old twins. The children had already gone to bed so we only met the baby at the end, who woke up and demanded the attention of his parents. As it happened, this baby boy, Levi, probably ranks in the top ten all time cutest babies. Our hearts were already wide open and he just marched right in!

It was the sabbath, however, and no electronic devices could be used, so no pictures.

Hillel and Chaya have chosen to bring light where light is desperately needed, living and doing their work in Jerusalem. They combine their therapy practice with the kinds of activities we also offer — groups for men and women, meditation, yoga practice.

My favorite for pure creativity goes to the event for women held at/in the Dead Sea aptly titled “Floating in Bliss.”

Pray for their work. They are kindred spirits. Part of the great ring of light-workers around the globe.

Through Marty we had come to know much about modern Israel and present-day Judaism, but this brought it all to a clearer, heartfelt focus.

Saturday we went into the Old City. We started just outside the walls, in a replica of the room where the Last Supper was held. It was filled with very loud pilgrims and I found it without inspiration. Right nearby was the tomb of David.

It is considered a synagogue, and this was the sabbath, so no electronics could be used, i.e., no pictures. The small room is partitioned into separate sections for men and women. It was delightfully cool and silent and meditation was deep and effortless.

From there we went to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Which was neither cool nor silent, but jammed with noisy pilgrims.

It is a huge church built over the last few stations of the cross. It includes where Jesus was crowned with thorns, crucified, taken from the cross and laid on a stone, anointed there with herbs and oils and then placed in the stone tomb where he lay for three days until the Resurrection.

Naturally, every Christian coming to Israel wants to come to this place.

The lines to touch the stone upon which the cross stood, and the tomb where his body was laid were too long, too noisy and too restless for me even to consider. I found a spot nearby. Fortunately, spirit is stronger than the restless human mind, and it was deep and still.

Later I also sat by the stone where his body was laid. Impossible to get close to the tomb, so I leave that for another time.

That whole spot, of course, was vibrant with the presence of Christ but for me where Christ lives in the Holy Land was in Galilee.

We went into the Old City for lunch in the Armenian Quarter.

The next day we went to the Western Wall, at the base of Temple Mount, where the Temple stood where Jesus preached and faced down his critics. Where he drove out the money changers and so many of the dramatic incidents of his life took place.

The Mount itself is a Moslem site and our guide suggested we not go there at all. So as close as we got was the Western Wall, where Jews come from all over the world to pray and to press into the cracks in the rock written prayers. Impossible not to be moved by so much devotion, ancient and now.

What made an even deeper impression on me was a part of the Western Wall that is an archeological site. They have excavated down to the paving stones of the Roman world, the level of ground on which Jesus walked, which is considerably lower than ground level at the prayer section.

Massive doesn’t begin to describe it! Stones, immense in themselves, piled one on top of another going many many many feet into the air.

Standing on those paving stones, looking up at that wall. Leaning up against it, feeling its immensity, my thought was simply, “No wonder Jesus left for Galilee!” And also, “The simplicity and joy of his teachings never had a chance against the weight (literally!) of this material power!”

Earlier we had walked through a district where our guide explained lavish mansions had been uncovered — which were inhabited by the temple priests! Power and money. Those delusions have tempted man forever.

The conflict between the message of Jesus and the establishment of the religion of his day was so obvious.

Jerusalem was where Jesus fought to bring light into darkness. I could understand why he wept as he looked over the city. Wept because of the unwillingness of so many to see what he had to bring them.

The drama of Jerusalem, the sheer power of Jesus’ triumph is thrilling.

For me though, Galilee, with “his chosen few” where “they sang with him and worshipped the Lord,” was my heart-place in the Holy Land..

This has been a profound and joyous journey. Every minute of it.

And I am ready to come back to life as it has been given to me in this incarnation.

]]>http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/7033/mt-tabor-nazareth-meggido-tzfat-jerusalem/feed/0Transitionshttp://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/7025/transitions-2/
http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/7025/transitions-2/#commentsSat, 17 Oct 2015 22:52:36 +0000http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/?p=7025Swami Kriyananda talked with me about moving to India or possibly Italy when I visited India in 2012. I was there to do some creative projects at his request. The first day I met with Swamiji, his opening remarks to me were “Well, how do you like India?”

I’d barely seen India. I was sick on the way over and spent most of the first few days in a hotel, recovering. The first day I was well, I had a treacherous ride in a mini-taxi to receive an Akashic reading that proved to not be very accurate. (Akashic readings are something like astrological readings, and are not all equally helpful.)

“Ugh, I like it,” was all I could muster up. (And this proved to be true as I later fell in love with India). Nevertheless, Swamiji’s response was “Well, maybe Italy.” Inwardly all I could think of was, “But wait! I haven’t been able to give it a chance. What do I know? I’ve been sick.”

Where Should I Live?

Devaki and Swami Kriyananda after a performance of “The Peace Treaty”, which Devaki directed at Ananda Village each summer.

From that point on, everyone — including me — thought I was going back to India. The only one who didn’t seem to respond with 100 percent enthusiasm was Swamiji. But he was very subtle with me.

For instance, I would hear from Narayani, his personal assistant, that maybe I would travel to Italy with them the following year. So he wasn’t seeing India as my final destination — not for the time being at least. But I was, and all that I knew when I left India was that I needed to downsize and get my finances together so that I could make the move.

Swamiji left his body in the spring of 2013, before any change in my life had a chance to take place. After he left the body, everything to do with Ananda India began to change. This was the beginning of what we all knew to be a global transition for Ananda’s work. Something none of us could ever prepare for but all of us knew was inevitable.

Swamiji’s passing, coupled with my brother leaving his body the following year, brought forth in me a tremendous sense of restlessness, anxiety and instability. I had the sense that the ground was shaking beneath my feet. Sadly, I felt I was trying to fit somewhere I no longer belonged. I loved life at Ananda Village, so what was the problem? Out of a sense of dharma and loyalty to long-time friends… and probably a sense of fear, I kept trying. Whatever the reason, it became increasingly obvious that a change was needed and trying to happen.

Finally the feelings that I had for change were unbearable. I quit my job at Ananda village and felt the freedom to explore. For many reasons India and Italy did not seem to work out so I began exploring the Pacific Northwest.

Finding a Direction

I had lived in Seattle twice: before moving to Ananda in 1984, and again for four years in the mid-to-late 90’s. I moved when Mountain Song, an early Ananda retail store in Nevada City, began its end-of-life journey, and Vasanta Weber asked if I’d consider moving to work in Seattle’s East-West Bookstore.

I hadn’t considered moving back to Seattle at a third time, but Nayaswami Devi mentioned they needed someone in the bookshop so I thought I’d check it out. Also, Nayaswamis Jyotish and Devi were traveling through Seattle and I thought it would be a great way to connect with them, visit the Northwest, and take a little vacation on the coast.

Ananda Seattle’s teaching center in Bothell.

When I first drove into Seattle I felt an incredible amount of frenetic energy. I’d been used to living in a quiet rural community, and naturally my first thoughts were, “NO WAY, I’m not moving here! This is a crazy city and I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Plus, everything seemed so big! I’d walk into a Fred Meyer’s, forget what entrance I’d come in and spend a half hour looking for my car because I’d walked out a different side to the store. Quite different from the JC Penny’s store I frequented in Grass Valley (only one entrance!). This was quite a different experience for someone who was a little out of touch with modern life. I recently handed my flip phone to my friend’s ten-year old to see if he could help me with it and, his response was,”What is it?”

For the next four or five days, Devi and I would make little comments to each other in passing about whether or not I should move, both of us feeling what was trying to happen, neither of us wanting to color our perceptions. We were both dutifully impressed by what Swamiji and Master had been able to accomplish there through all of the great souls in Seattle. Seattle is spearheaded of course by Nayaswamis Padma and Hriman. Finally, by the time I left, I knew Seattle was where Master wanted me.

Because the bookstore in Seattle wasn’t quite ready for me, I returned to the Village and worked the summer for The Expanding Light (Ananda’s guest retreat). Three months later, I was in Seattle. Now I work in the bookstore again, teach classes and will begin to put together our upcoming Christmas events, and it feels right.

Before the move, I had a lot of anxiety. Who will be my doctor? What if I don’t like it? What if I still feel restless… on and on… the monkey mind!

The anxiety ceased the day I started driving my truck full of belongings to the Northwest. It was only then that I knew, yes, absolutely, I had made the right decision. From that point on I felt a very strong guiding presence from Master and Swamiji behind my actions and thoughts.

“You Have Not Made Any Mistakes”

There was one thing that the man in India who read my Akashic records said which felt divinely inspired. He said, ”You have not made any mistakes” — something I have struggled with my whole life. Swami Kriyananda’s comment was, “Well, that I agree with!”

I see the meaning here as there are no mistakes in the universe, and that everything has a divine order. But I challenge you, dear reader, to meditate and figure this out for yourself as it is quite a deep concept!

Of course there are some adjustments that I must make while living here — I certainly wouldn’t want it any other way, since after all I am here to grow. But will I stay in Seattle? For the rest of my life?

I don’t know, and I’ve come to realize that I cannot second-guess Divine Mother, she fools me every time! But for now, it feels very right.

Here I am reminded of Swami Kriyananda’s song, “Home is a Green Hill.” I often chant it to myself; my favorite lines are:

Home is the knowledge heaven’s within,
Home is a heart that is whole. …
When I’m silent, free from all care,
I discover my home’s everywhere!

Jerusalem is the most dramatic part of the life of Christ, but Galilee is where much of his mission took place.

It was here that he “gathered round his chosen few….in their youth, in their joy, all they asked of God was freedom to love.”

That’s the whole teaching. And we are living it.

Yesterday began early out on a boat on the Sea of Galilee, drifting in the middle of the lake in silent meditation as the sun rose over the hill.

The crew remarked afterwards that we were the most serene group of pilgrims ever. If more people were like us, they said, there would be peace in the middle East.

It is hard to explain experiences like these. “Living presence of God” comes the closest. It is Swamiji’s name for his Oratorio, “Christ Lives in the Holy Land — and in You.”

Swamiji said when liberation comes we look back at all our incarnations and the only thing we remember is those moments when we were in the presence of God. Much of yesterday will be remembered.

We went also to Capernaum and sat at the water’s edge and meditated. Then later wandered around the ruins, including the remnants of a synagogue built on the exact spot where the temple stood where Jesus taught.

On pilgrimage, one is in so many places at the same time. Where we came from and where we will soon return. The physical place we have traveled to. And the ancient reality we came to experience.

At Capernaum, we had The Festival of Light, looking out over the water, sitting on rocks under the shade of a tree.

We must be careful not to let over-familiarity blind us to what we have in The Festival and in all that Swamiji has opened to us of Master’s ray. On the banks of the Sea of Galilee I felt The Festival as Swamiji intended it to be.

Most Catholic priests can do their Mass in less than an hour, but Padre Pio would spend 3 times that long, because every aspect of it was to him, not mere ritual, but the living presence of Christ.

Before coming to Galilee, we were in the desert region, near the Dead Sea, at a hotel run by a kibbutz. The scope and desolation of the deserts here is hard to imagine until you see it. The beautiful hotel and grounds where we stayed has been scratched out of the desert over the past 60 years by the kibbutzim.

The view from my room was a bluff of barren hills. When the first kibbutzim came to the area, the bluff on which the hotel sits was equally barren. Water was a kilometer away and no one until then had even considered that the hillside could be transformed by pipes and pumps and sheer determination.

We visited Masada. Some of us walking up that massive hill in the relative coolness of pre-dawn, watching the sun rise over the Dead Sea, and the play of light on the barren, wind-carved landscape spread beneath us.

Masada is a story of courage — Jews fleeing from Roman rule to take refuge on the hilltop where they lived for about 7 years until Roman legions came and crushed their rebellion. At the end, the entire community chose death before dishonor and committed suicide rather than allow themselves to be conquered.

So many lifetimes of alternating tragedy and fulfillment. Literally, beyond our ability to comprehend. Understanding comes only in the presence of God.

We also visited Qumran, where the Dead Sea Scrolls were found. We hiked a brief distance up into the surrounding hills, where the monks had their caves.

Sitting on the ground meditating on a rocky hillside, it was easy to imagine a lifetime of silent communion. In Kali Yuga descending, spiritual seekers had to separate themselves from society. Truth was preserved in isolation, waiting for a more auspicious time.

Master’s mission is Dwapara rising. Kriya has come out of the hermit’s cave, brought by Lahiri to the streets of Varanasi and through him to all of us. Different times have different needs but the communion with God is always the same.

We also visited Bethlehem. It was pure joy to be there. Hot, crowded, noisy — none of it mattered to me. It was all about the baby Jesus.

My arrival in Israel was later than expected. I planned to be here last Monday evening but didn’t arrive until dawn on Thursday.

In all my travels till now, I’ve only missed one connection, and had luggage delayed only one time. Last week karma was different. Coming from Mumbai, India through Abu Dabi, we were late. Overall, I was not even-minded or cheerful about the delay. Some ripple in my karma that had to be lived through. Perhaps in a previous life I died on the way to Jerusalem! I felt intensely nervous inside.

The time in India touched my heart and spirit deeply. That, plus sleep deprivation, and intense eagerness to be in Jerusalem reduced me to tears on Monday when I saw I wasn’t going to make it. I went into a corner of the airport, sat on the floor and sobbed. I wasn’t sure why I was crying, but I had no choice.

I was too attached, too self-concerned, too committed to my plans and my desires. God wanted me to be on pilgrimage, not on a journey of my own choosing.

When I missed the plane on Tuesday, I was simply amazed. “God doesn’t want me to be in Jerusalem yet,” I said to the clerk when I checked back into the airport hotel. The whole time in Rome, I had no luggage, having confidently sent it on to Israel.

I expected to find it in Jerusalem, but when I got there at dawn on Thursday it hadn’t yet arrived. By then, I was having a good time and just borrowed from everyone, ready to do the whole pilgrimage in other people’s clothes.

But when we returned from Bethlehem, my bag was there. I felt the karma come to zero. Whatever that was about was over.

I forgot to mention baptism in the Jordan. The river is only about 20 feet across and meanders quietly through banks dense with reeds. At what is presumed to be the spot where John baptized Jesus, beautiful stone porticos have been erected but at the river itself there is a simple wooden platform that goes down in steps into the river — like the ghats in India.

Diksha and Gyandev stood at the deepest part — only waist deep on the platform — and we one by one went into the water and received a blessing from them. As Diksha put it quite simply, “As soon as I went into the water I went somewhere else and I didn’t return for a long time.”

It is muddy looking but feels pure and blessed. As I went underwater there was a feeling of leaving all karma behind to be carried away by God. We sat on the bank and chanted a bit and sang some from the Oratorio.

Where divine events have transpired, the imprint of the divine remains seemingly for eternity.

While in the desert (forgive the lack of sequence to this narrative, the order doesn’t matter) we hiked into a canyon to what is called David’s spring. From the most barren, brutally hot landscape we soon found ourselves walking by a stream, passing through waterfalls until we reached a large fern grotto with water falling from the rock some hundreds of feet above.

Quite apart from all the spiritual power, the land itself is stunning in its contrasts. And what the Jewish people have done with it is nothing less than a miracle. The politics of the region are overwhelming. We’ve had to tell ourselves repeatedly: Self-Realization is the answer. Therefore, the best thing we can do is what we are doing: love God, serve God, commune with God.

This morning we went to Tabgha — the place where Jesus appeared to some of his disciples after his resurrection. This was when they were out on the fishing boat and the “man on the shore” asked them: “Have you caught any fish?” When they replied in the negative, he suggested they cast the net on the other side. The net filled with fishes. In that moment, John recognized it was Jesus speaking to them. He told Peter and Peter leapt from the boat and rushed to Jesus through the water.

Jesus cooked fish and served bread to them.

At Tabgha there is small stone church which is built over a large rock which is said to be the rock from which Jesus served the disciples. It emerges from the floor and you can sit next to it and touch it and lay your to-be-blessed items upon it.

Right next to it is small opening to the Sea of Galilee. Wading out into the water, perched on the rocks time stops. I was facing the Sea when it occurred to me to face the shore. For that is where Jesus stood when he called to his disciples. Easy to see him with the eyes of spirit, and, like Peter, to drop everything and rush toward him.
AUM GURU.

]]>http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/7006/galilee/feed/1Christmas in Pune 2012http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/6709/christmas-pune-2012/
http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/6709/christmas-pune-2012/#commentsWed, 10 Dec 2014 16:10:07 +0000http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/?p=6709One day I was chatting with Swami Kriyananda’s nurse at Ananda Village and I was describing what I’ve done for the Village in terms of our Christmas Eve celebrations. I was hoping to inspire her to attempt the same when she returned to Pune India where Swami resided. She became very excited and suggested that I visit Pune to help that year with Christmas.

It is not in the Indian culture to celebrate Christmas. And although many Indians know who Christ is, he isn’t thought of by most as a guru. Swamiji was thrilled when Miriam suggested to him that I come over; I was also thrilled to receive the invitation. A long awaited desire to visit India was about to be fulfilled.

I felt as though I were on a mission of grace right from the beginning. I’d been in Seattle directing some scenes from Swamiji’s children’s story The Time Tunnel for the Seattle congregation. It was a well-attended event and included people from all over the country. My friend Dharmadevi was there from LA.

We spent little time together in Seattle, but I’d heard through the grapevine that she was planning a trip to India close to the time that I was. Literally in passing, I mentioned to her that I was going and that perhaps we should go together. She smiled and nodded “yes.”

The day I flew out of Seattle while waiting at the airport for my plane to take off, I went into Starbuck’s; low and behold there she stood. She was flying back to LA that day and both of us felt the synchronicity of our meeting as a sign that we should travel together.

We booked our flights through a travel agent and she was even given a free flight from LA to meet me in San Francisco. The trip was of course a delight except for the fact that I got ill, even before reaching India! I suppose you could call it Delhi-belly (a term for the digestive problems Americans often get when visiting India), but whatever it was it put me out of commission for the first three days of my landing in India.

They say that we work through a lot of karma when we travel to India. I think this is probably true. Neverthless, after my illness, I felt purified, lighter and ready for whatever was to come my way.

Let me also say, that not only was I to do a Christmas eve celebration in the month ahead, but Swami also thought that while I was there I should direct his play “The Jewel in the Lotus.” (I’ll leave “The Jewel in the Lotus” for a future article.) So how do you convey the Western interpretation of Christmas to an Eastern culture?

You find a way to synthesize your understanding of the teachings and how that translates into the culture that you are working with along with their understanding. And most important, you simplify.

Swamiji and his guru Paramhansa Yogananda taught that we don’t go to a country to Americanize or Indianize. Yogananda did not come to America to make us all Indians, he came to blend and synthesize East and West. He took the best of each culture, a combination of American ingenuity and productivity and the inwardness of Eastern spirituality.

We all have to find our own way. Events and spiritual ceremonies are so sacred to a culture that they must reflect who they are, not who you as a director are, or think they should be.

The Ananda land in Pune is beautiful, and vibrationally sacred. It is alive with God’s presence, even in these infant stages of the community. I was surrounded by devotees from all over the world. I felt safe and it was easy to feel a deep sense of the Divine presence.

There are a few little quirks. The food is different, but this was not a problem for me because I love Indian cuisine. At times you hear raucous chanting from neighboring towns, resulting from a wedding or some type of event. You are isolated from larger shopping areas and you walk a lot (so it’s best to have all that you need for the day when you leave home in the morning).

It’s wise to bring your shoes in for the night or they may not be there in the morning, and a flashlight is advisable so that you can see the little critters that may lie on your path at night. For the truth seeker, it is a haven of peace, full of interesting sounds and beautifully colored birds.

The land is guarded by Mamma, a stray dog of a breed that I’ve only seen in India. They are all over. The first morning we were there Dharmadevi and I went to sadhana.

While we were walking to the temple, Mamma greeted us when we walked out the door (how do they know?), and walked us all the way to the temple. The whole time she barked at the possible hidden dangers in the bushes as if to show us she was taking care of us and that we need not worry. That was her job and she had it covered.

She was the happiest dog I’ve ever seen. She was well fed (Mamma, like many Ananda strays, is fed many times a day by both staff and visitors). She had a big property to frolic on and complete freedom to come and go as she pleased. There were a couple of stray dogs that would come by to play and they were her friends. However, if they got to close to the retreat (especially the dining area) or the guests she would send them on their way; there was no doubt that she was in charge.

On Mondays when the retreat was silent and everyone seemed to be secluding, even Mamma took a day of rest. She would be fast asleep on the trail to the temple. When Mamma was resting, not even a crane could move her; savasana at its finest!

What I love about India is how right-brained everything is. In our culture everything is left-brained and logical. In India, everything is right-brained and intuitive. To me it is refreshing, hence the name Mother India.

Before I went to India, I thought I understood the driving. But no one who described it could ever give it justice. My best memory was sitting at a four way intersection for half an hour while everything was at a standstill. All traffic was trying to go at once. Finally a few gentlemen got out of their cars and directed everyone. What a dilemma that would have been in our culture. In India, everyone expects it and flows with it.

Day to day shopping in India is somewhat limited. You can find soap to bathe with, but the choices are limited and usually between two major American brands, Dial or Lifeboy. It’s difficult to find candles for your altar not to mention a candle light ceremony. But we did! The community is not set up for sewing costumes, so we had to get creative with draping the beautiful fabric found all throughout India and mixing brilliant color combinations.

Bramachari Aditya, our resident doctor, would often take us shopping. We would climb into a little blue car that could seat about six people. The ride to town was bumpy — I mean bumpy enough to throw you out of your seat if you weren’t holding on to something.

Aditya took me Christmas shopping for fabric and other props that we needed for our performance. We began at a local shop that I considered to be India’s version of a Walmart. The store was a little bigger than my living room and bathroom combined (which is approx. 60’x20’). Anything I asked for, the man behind the counter pulled off a shelf. Rubber bands, synthetic flowers, angel wings; no brands and the selection was very limited, but I was impressed! Aditya and I had fun.

Sadly I had to draw the line and assert my directors prerogative when Aditya wanted to buy a plastic saber for his role as a wise man. (This was just not my idea of proper attire for a wise man, no matter the culture.) But being the good natured fellow that he is, he easily acquiesced even though I know the little boy in him was disappointed.

Before I went to India I had written a very simple script for the evening. I cast our little production and it was complete with angels, Mary, Joseph and wise men. No part for Mamma however, she’d need to wait down below. Her cameo appearance (much to everyone’s surprise) for the Christmas concert seemed to bring enough joy and from a director’s perspective, a little “Too much joy!”

In writing the script, I primarily stayed with the basic storyline and of course we had Swamij’s beautiful music sung by a small choir which in vibration translates into any culture. Unfortunately, I had misplaced our precious taper candles for the ceremony so we had to substitute little tea lights. Tricky to light, but we had beautiful and adept angels lighting them, so we were okay.

Our performance took place in a lovely little amphitheater by Swamiji’s house. It was like performing in a “Temple of Trees” from Autobiography of a Yogi. There was tiered seating for the audience and the stage was leveled dirt. I loved it!

In the last years of his life, Swamiji became frailer, so we decided to have an angel walk to him so that he could light his candle from his seat. To our surprise he insisted that he walk to the area where everyone was posed in the traditional crèche. True to his style, he had an angel light his tiny candle on stage for him. His face was so innocent and childlike. It is one of the sweetest and fondest memories that I have of Swamiji.

East Indians are wonderful actors! Directing them was a joy. They took direction easily and came from their hearts, as did the Italians and Americans that acted. The event lasted less than 45 minutes, once everyone had lit their candles.

After everyone had left the event, I and two of my friends sat in the vibration of the evening. The vibration lingered for a very long time, many hours. I have to say that after directing for several years what I consider deep spiritual events, I have never felt a vibration quite like this one. All three of us felt it.

It was not only deep and uplifting, but powerful, awe-inspiring actually. I literally felt as if Christ himself was there. I could only liken it to a similar vibration that I’d felt in Jerusalem many years ago, which was the power of Christ. But even this surpassed it. It was proof to me that Christ did live in the Himalayas at some point in time, and that he still visited, and was there that night.

]]>http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/6709/christmas-pune-2012/feed/4Ananda Goes to New Zealandhttp://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/6753/ananda-goes-new-zealand/
http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/6753/ananda-goes-new-zealand/#commentsFri, 05 Dec 2014 19:05:28 +0000http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/?p=6753Recently I have been made conscious of a habitual way of thinking. Before, when confronted with something that was impossible to do, I would let everyone know why it couldn’t be accomplished, justifying my decision not to raise my energy. And I have a lot of energy. Up until a month ago, I counted this as a skill and an asset. But then New Zealand happened. Spending time with a group of long-time devotees, at the heart of which was Asha Praver, a close friend and student of Swami Kriyananda’s, who channels him at every opportunity, opened me up to another portal of energy potential.

Many lucky souls had the opportunity to tour with Swami on the “Joy Tours” back in the 70’s. Not only was it a growthful experience for the people who came, but also for the people who traveled with Kriyananda. They learned first hand what it is like to be with such a powerhouse of energy, always living the teachings, never for a moment relaxing into subconscious or resting on habits that didn’t serve. Living the teachings at the safety of a spiritual community is one thing. Living them out in the world is another, especially when representing Master and Swami. Then, you have to be an example. It’s a whole new kind of integration.

So now it was my turn. There we all were, about to load up the MarshMELLOW (the white minibus we traveled around New Zealand with) for a two-week tour. In it needed to fit all our (very large) suitcases, many boxes of books, tables, vases, flowers, harmoniums, guitars, video equipment, altar dressings, fire ceremony supplies, food… you get the picture. When I saw all that needed to be loaded onto the van, I thought, “There’s no way is this all going to fit. As if on cue, yet another item was added to our pack list: massive bunches of lilies that had been pulled out of the garden that morning, a delivery for an online bidder. Each bunch weighed about 20lbs and with huge roots filled with dirt. I thought to myself, “There is no way this was going to happen.”

So I marched into the house, listing the reasons it was impossible and on some level believing I was serving everyone. “You don’t understand—”, I started, but Asha had caught my thought. She pulled me aside, “No, Rachel, you don’t understand. This is going to happen. It always fits! It’s full when you put the people in the car with the suitcases on top of them. That’s when it’s full.”

Whoa. This was huge shift in the way I think about things. It always fits? It does??? How interesting that I would always assume that it was my job to let everyone know why it couldn’t be done. Who knew that all that was required was thinking in an opposite direction? Assume that it WILL and work backwards from there. Use my energy for that!

At that point I realized the groove in my brain played “this is not going to happen and here is why” instead of “this IS going to happen and here’s how.”

And of course Asha was right; it always fits.

Thankfully this happened in the beginning of the trip, as it set the tone for the rest of our time there. Whatever expectations I had had created an appropriate relationship to each situation that came up and the desire to raise my energy so I can meet God’s unlimited flow and be a clearer channel of light to whomever I meet along the way.

All of this to say I loved my experience in New Zealand and feel a tremendous amount of gratitude for Swami, Asha, my travel companions and all my new Kiwi friends. I never considered how powerful it could be to watch a person feel the click of truth; their whole being transforms right before your eyes. An answered prayer and you were right there, experiencing it with them. My life is forever transformed.

Here is a video about the whole trip. Sorry, the lilies didn’t make it in the video.

]]>http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/6753/ananda-goes-new-zealand/feed/10A Letter from Asha: New Zealand Tourhttp://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/6722/letter-asha-new-zealand-tour/
http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/6722/letter-asha-new-zealand-tour/#commentsTue, 04 Nov 2014 22:29:19 +0000http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/?p=6722This letter was written by Nayswami Asha on October 29, 2014 while on her trip to New Zealand to give classes and workshops.

Dear Friends:

We are in the last week of our time here. Inward glimpses of California occasionally break through now, but the best policy is still: “Be here now.”

We were warned in advance that New Zealanders are more “British than American,” meaning more reserved. They have to get to know you before they’ll ask questions or share experiences.

I scheduled classes for 2.5 hours — a lot of time for a lecture, just right when people interact and engage.

Sometimes it worked. In Wellington the time flew by. By the end of the first weekend in Hamilton, the audience was contributing more. Informal satsangs are going well.

Since Palmerston North, we’ve included more music, chanting, and meditation. Probably the best idea from the start, but I’ve had to learn by doing.

People often ask me about their own spiritual progress, “Can I do more?”

My answer is a question, “Are you pushing against the edge of the unknown rather than coasting on habit?”

Nice to be able to answer those questions: Coasting: No. Learning: Yes.

Swamiji set the example of creatively serving God and Guru to the last breath. Just weeks before his passing, he finished his last book. I want my tiny feet to follow his mammoth footprints.

As I rounded the corner of 60 years — and kept on going — I wondered how to stay spiritually dynamic to the end.

When Swamiji announced the New Renunciate Order (June 2008) he asked me, “What do you think?”

I said, “The answer to a prayer. This will save me from spiritual mediocrity.”

“Yes,” Swamiji said. My concern was justified.

The ideal Indian lifestyle brings everyone to sannyas in their last years. Walking off into the forest isn’t the model Swamiji set. Giving everything to God is.

Talking about Self-realization to a new friend here, she exclaimed, “There is so much to learn!”

“Yes,” I said happily. “Whenever you think you have reached the edge of the possible, the possible expands before you, literally to Infinity!”

I had hardly reached the edge of the possible in 2008, but I wasn’t sure how to proceed. Nayaswami vows solved that nicely.

In Auckland, the venue Kavita chose is also a retreat center. We promoted it like any other class series. Though set in a secluded valley, the venue is close to town. People came and went for the various programs.

All of us, though, and about seven others, lived at the retreat. Meals, sadhanas, and lots of time for conversation proved transformative.

There is so much to Ananda. One hardly knows where to begin! My way is to give classes — karma, reincarnation, meditation — as much of the “Self-realization curriculum” as I could cover.

Having Dambara to sing was essential. A few minutes of song can change consciousness more than hours of words.

Still, even with lots of words, music, sadhana, and satsang, one barely touches the surface.

For introducing Ananda to a new audience, Finding Happiness is a godsend. It is almost like being there. Everyone in the movie, and the ideas they present,
expands the definition of what Ananda is and how to be part of it.

On Friday, we go to Lake Taupo for a weekend retreat.

It is a gorgeous setting. About 20 have signed up, mostly people we have already met (plus two from Australia). Being together for three days we hope will launch Ananda New Zealand into the future.

When we were filming Finding Happiness we had to constantly remind ourselves, “We can’t include everything. This movie alone will not teach someone how to start a community.”

But it can inspire people to learn how to start one.

Many times since we arrived here I’ve had to repeat this to myself: In one class, one weekend, one month we can’t teach everything about the spiritual path.

But we can inspire people to want to know more.

May we be able to awaken Thy love in all hearts: our constant prayer.

As Swamiji often said, you can live next door to the best restaurant in the world, but if you aren’t hungry, you won’t go in.

Fortunately, when spiritual hunger comes, in Dwapara Yuga, everyone lives next door to a spiritual smorgasbord. Passing out a directory of online classes, websites, and YouTube channels has been central to what we are doing here.

In one of our programs, Dambara sang (exquisitely) some of Swamiji’s songs of divine longing — like Through Many Lives, Mother of Us All, Divine Romance, Door of My Heart.

People sometimes feel Swamiji’s music is sad. After the singing, I felt to comment.

“Belief in God is not enough. You must also long for Him. Longing moves you toward God, and pulls God toward you. Longing for God is what these songs awaken.”

“I have only two desires in life,” Swamiji said, “To realize God and to help others also to realize Him.”

We place our tiny feet next to Swamiji’s giant footprints.

We are so grateful to God and Gurus for bringing us here, for re-uniting us with soul brothers and sisters, and letting us help launch Ananda New Zealand.

A few years ago a friend and I were traveling around Europe. One afternoon, we found ourselves lost somewhere in the French countryside. We had taken the metro to the end of the line and started walking, searching for our accommodations but ending up in a grassy field with few cars or people in sight. It was late afternoon, and without speaking the language, having a cell phone, or knowing teleportation, we were in trouble.

Together we kept a positive, joyful spirit however and kept moving, knowing things would work out. Soon later, a man took pity on us obviously bewildered foreigners and gestured us into his car. We tried to explain where we thought we needed to go, and he took off fast. I was in the back seat, and as this man continued to accelerate and swerve along the country road, I began praying uneasily, with great fervor.

Before long however, we had reached our destination, and we gratefully bid our driver adieu. Our little French motel boasted no live staff, and the electronic check-in machine rudely discredited our reservation and credit card. The time was 4:50 PM, getting dark, and we were drained. Well, we laughed it off, and 15 minutes later, tried again – it worked!

Our one-night stay was not recognized until after 5:00 by the previously mentioned, ahem, machine. Well, we passed the night gratefully, if not comfortably, in a small and rather dirty, dark, and smoky room. Our amusement was still peaked; though we had had a rough day, we had not lost our joy.

View from Monte Bre, Lugano, Switzerland

This story illustrates a principle of yoga that underlies the natural world: our outer circumstances reflect our inner ones, and the former will ultimately adjust to accommodate our inner understanding, awareness, and attitudes. As yogis, we have control over the world around us, from within. As long as we don’t lose our positive outlook, our sense of wonder and joy, the world will be a brighter place, and accommodate our needs. The moment we slip into darkness: negativity, judgment, being a victim, our circumstances reinforces these realities too.

Like many friends of mine, I’ve always loved to travel. It’s inspiring and fun to see beautiful places, different cultures and peoples, and enjoy all that the world has to offer. The quality of “ever-new joy” comes alive to the traveler who, with appreciation, happily visits and new places, befriends new people and new circumstances around him. This is a fun practice indeed, if we can keep our center, especially when the circumstances are less than perfect.

Sacred site of Badrinath in India.

Greater still, and more inspiring, is to travel to places of spiritual power and legacy. India and many parts of Europe offer many such places, hallowed by saints and sages through the centuries. Indeed Paramhansa Yogananda says that the “vibrations [in these places] will quicken your realization.” If you have the opportunity to explore these magnificent parts of the world, do not hesitate to do so.

The Expanding Light, Ananda Village’s retreat center offers many such spiritual travel opportunities, including the Himalayan Adventure Pilgrimage I will co-lead next year. Just one such trip will change your life forever, spiritually and with memories of friendship, joyous wonder and adventure. Ultimately whether we travel near or far in this world, it is the far more vast and worthwhile inner kingdom we must explore and conquer through daily, deep meditation, practicing the presence of God always, and directing our hearts’ love to Him.

In a hauntingly beautiful song from his Cosmic Chants book, Yogananda writes, “I will be a gypsy…I’ll roam, roam, with Aum…I’ll be the king of the land through which I roam.” This is the consciousness of a saint, and that which we can all practice and achieve. Wherever we go, whatever we do, if we keep in tune with Spirit, we will reign like kings over the world around us, from within. “Take no thought for the morrow,” Jesus says in Mathew 6:34, and in 6:33, “ But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness: and all these things shall be added unto you.” Blessings and happy travels to you.

]]>http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/badri/6718/traveling-spirit/feed/2Pipe Down and Crack Onhttp://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/6464/pipe-crack/
http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/guest/6464/pipe-crack/#commentsTue, 31 Dec 2013 00:35:27 +0000http://www.ananda.org/a-place-called-ananda/?p=6464Ben and Tarka have just walked 900 miles to the South Pole. Now, they walk back.

But let’s back up a bit. It all started when friends Koral and Suzanne Ilgun took a recent trip to Antarctica, sharing photos like this:

I’ve been following their blog since. As you might imagine, it’s a lot of effort (not my following their blog; I mean them hiking the 1800 miles)—strenuous skiing against fierce cold and strong headwinds, each towing a very heavy supply sled, often in whiteout conditions, day after slogging day, for 2 months now, with 2 more to go.

What do they think about? This was my favorite comment:

“I’ve read of explorers from Cherry-Garrard to Fiennes having mantras they’d repeat to themselves when the going got tough. I can’t say I’ve got one myself, but my favourite recourse when my mind starts fretting about how tough this journey is proving is to tell myself to “Pipe down and crack on”. It works a treat, especially in what I imagine to be a Yorkshire accent.”

Pipe down and crack on. In other words, don’t give in to whining or negative thinking, which stalls the energy flow. Just get on with it, move forward, and do what needs to be done. A positive, cheerful attitude helps!

Another friend mentioned recently how he enjoyed reading accounts from early pioneers. He noticed that they didn’t mention the weather that much. He didn’t think it was necessarily that they were heartier than we are—just more accepting of conditions they had no control over. “When you think about it, it’s kind of silly to complain about the weather, isn’t it?” Well, yes!

It made me realize how equally silly it is to complain about ANY conditions we face that we have no control over. Just adjust, do what needs to be done, and remind the mind (good-humoredly) to pipe down and crack on.
________________________

In our own, tiny, microcosmic way, my wife Manisha and I have both been treading on together into new territory, for us: seeing how we can help promote Ananda Oregon’s various entities here, for example. At first, I got caught up in a bit of anxiety, not being sure exactly how to do that! Good-humored and willing—but not moving forward much.

Meanwhile, Manisha stepped right in and plowed forward, with lots of really creative ideas. Eventually I got caught up in her creativity flow, and once I got moving, it was fun (whew!). Good teamwork, and some good results. :-)
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On the subject of weather, that’s been consistent here at Laurelwood, Oregon: 33 degrees and foggy. Couple of weeks ago, though, there was an unusually cold spell for Oregon. One morning I hopped in my car, and the temperature gauge said “18”. “Wow!” I thought, “I’ve never seen that before!” Of course, it’s relative… a friend here who lived in Alaska for 7 years, said that it was minus 70 degrees one day. “Was that with wind chill?” “Nope, that was the still air temperature. It was amazing.”

How silly it is to worry, or complain, about the weather. Just accept, add some more layers—and enjoy how amazing it all is.
________________________

This reminds me of a story I heard long ago, before coming to Ananda:

A Place That is Neither Hot Nor Cold

In the ninth century there was in Tang China a Zen master called Dongshan Liangjie. Once a monk in training asked Great Master Dongshan, “When heat and cold come, how can I avoid them?”

Dongshan said, “Why don’t you go where it’s neither hot nor cold?”

“What is this place of no heat or cold?”

Dongshan replied, “When it’s hot, become one with the heat; when it’s cold, become one with the cold. That is the place of no heat or cold.”
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I’ve actually found that useful a lot since. So, it’s hot? Like, you’re driving in 100 degree humid weather and there’s no air conditioning? Well, you can either 1) wish it were otherwise, worry, and complain (tense); or, 2) accept what is, adapt, and enjoy the amazing show (relax).

In other words, get into it.

And after all… whose show is it, anyway?

I’ve heard it said that fear is a form of athiesm.

Fear, worry, doubt… those habits presuppose that things are going wrong, we’re in charge, and we have to fix it all. That can be pretty overwhelming!

But, hmm… perhaps this is God’s show, and things are unfolding exactly as they are meant to. What would it mean if everything in front of us was a personal gift from God? And it was EXACTLY what we wished for (in our souls, at least), and were meant to have, for our own highest happiness?

Gratitude, receptivity, good humor—these can take us far. Ahhh. Breathe, relax.

In fact, it’s fun to challenge God to come up with really good solutions. “Wow, Divine Mother, how in the world are we going to resolve THIS one?” She’s a brilliant scriptwriter, and ALWAYS comes up with great, and often unexpected, storylines. Like a good Harry Potter read. Very satisfying.

It takes less than six hours by train to travel the 450 kilometers northwest from Delhi to Amritsar in the state of Punjab. Gazing out the window at the passing landscape, it’s easy to see why this region has long been considered the “breadbasket” of India, tempting waves of invaders through the ages. Nature has blessed Punjab with fertile soil and abundant water from the five rivers that cross its plains (Punjab means “five waters”).

This is a land of industrious farmers but unlike those who till the densely cultivated lands along the Ganges and in many other parts of India, here men ride Mahindra and Ford tractors instead of breaking soil with bullocks and hand labor. It’s a wheat culture rather than one centered on rice. The land is drier, fields are bigger, the population is less dense and there is more prosperity. With just a little stretch of the imagination, I could picture myself in California’s agricultural Central Valley.

The stereotypical Punjabi is said to be boisterous, big-hearted, and hardworking. If he has money, Indians say he likes to show it, but I think this may simply be jealousy. He is said to be expansive, self-confident (pushy?), and uncultured, though Punjab has a rich cultural tradition. Does this caricature of industrious farmers sound familiar? When India was partitioned in 1947, Punjab was split, forcing hundreds of thousands of displaced Punjabis to flee from the Pakistan side and resettle in Delhi.

To this day, snooty old-time Delhi-ites still tell jokes at the their expense. I’ve found Punjabis to be good natured and generous and their food delicious. Physically, they can be robust and because they have been called upon through the ages to defend India against invaders from the West, they have a martial spirit. When you combine all these qualities with personal self-discipline, honesty, and religious commitment, you have the Sikhs.

The Sikh religion (Sikh means “disciple”) was founded by Guru Nanak Dev in the last half of the fifteenth century in that part of the Punjab now controlled by Pakistan. In those days, much of northern India was governed by Muslim rulers while the majority of the population was Hindu. From an early age, Guru Nanak displayed an inclination toward mysticism and he is said to have achieved enlightenment at the age of thirty after a deep samadhi of many days. Upon coming back to normal consciousness, his first words were, “There is neither Hindu nor Muslim, so whose path shall I follow? I shall follow God’s path.” Thus the Sikh religion was born. Guru Nanak proceeded to expound his revelation and traveled widely, drawing followers to his non-sectarian teachings of ceaseless devotion to God, honesty, and service.

Sikhism in its present form is based upon the teachings of the first ten gurus of the faith, beginning with Guru Nanak and ending with Guru Gobind Singh in the early 18th century. Before his death, Gobind Singh proclaimed the Sri Guru Granth Sahib, the holy writings/teachings of the first ten Gurus, to be the eleventh and final Guru of the Sikh religion. That scripture is worshiped and brought out in procession each day at the Golden Temple in Amritsar, a place of pilgrimage for all devote Sikhs.

I traveled to Amritsar with a small group of pilgrims in early October. It was by happenstance that we found ourselves there because our original intention had been to visit Gangotri, the headwaters of the Ganges in the Himalayas, but this year’s monsoon was so heavy and late in the mountains that numerous landslides/washouts of the roads made travel there impossible. An earlier Ananda Italy tour to Badrinath that preceded ours ended up stranded and never did reach their goal. Reluctantly, we canceled our mountain journey and substituted a trip to Amritsar and Dharamasala in its place. In retrospect, I think God’s hand was guiding us to something even better.

Amritsar is a major city not far from the Pakistani border. It’s sometimes said, “If you’ve seen one city in India, you’ve seen them all,” because other than one or two notable points of interest, each presents the same dull face of endless small shops, bumpy roads, chaotic planning, bad air, and lots of people busily getting on with life. Amritsar is like that too except in the middle of town stands the Golden Temple complex encircling a wonderful pool of water, in the middle of which sits the Golden Temple itself, a beautiful marble structure sheathed in gold.

Pilgrims come by the thousands to circumambulate the pool (Amristar roughly translates as “pool of nectar”) and take darshan of the Guru Granth Sahib, housed in the temple. There, Sikh elders read from the scripture throughout the day, interspersing their recitation with prayers and bhajans, all broadcast non-stop through loudspeakers. I found it both mesmerizing and uplifting.

The Mogul Emperor Akbar first granted the sacred site of the Sarovar (water tank) to Guru Ramdas, the fourth Sikh guru, in the late 1500’s. There he constructed the first pool. Guru Arjan Sahib, the next guru, laid the foundation stone for the temple several years later and it was finished during the life of Guru Hargobind Sahib in the first decade of the 1600’s. In the centuries following, the temple became the focal point of the Sikh community and has many times been at the center of turmoil. The last such outbreak was in the 1984 when Indira Gandhi ordered a military assault, using armored vehicles and tanks, against Sikh separatists holed up in the temple. Massive damage was inflicted and hundreds (some say thousands) of civilians killed. This led to international outrage within the Sikh community and directly to Gandhi’s assassination by her body guards a few months later.

When visiting the temple, you leave your shoes outside at special stalls provided and cover your head with a scarf or bandana before entering. These are freely available if you don’t have your own. Once inside the grounds, you see the Golden Temple sitting serenely on the water, as if floating.

I joined the steady procession of pilgrims circumambulating the pool, and eventually made my way to a queue of devotees waiting on the causeway that leads across the water to the temple. There was no jostling and shoving as is so common in an Indian crowd. All was orderly and steady. Inside the temple, readings from the scriptures and recitation of prayers proceeded while the ushers tried their best to keep the pilgrims flowing through. Exiting the inner sanctum, I found a niche by a side door where I sat with other pilgrims while listening to the sounds wash over me.

Food is served throughout the day at no cost and I found a pavilion where one can nap if tired. Taking a dip in the pool is permitted and I saw a number of people meditating and reciting prayers. I sat for meditation next to a fellow doing a regimen of pranayam and received not even a second glance from the crowds passing by.

A bit later, I noticed a group of what at first appeared to be rough-looking teenagers following me, all the while exchanging conspiratorial whispers with one to another. I shifted my wallet from my back pocket to the front, just in case, and let them catch up, ready for whatever. Gathering their courage, they surrounded me and breathlessly asked, “Where are you from? Why are you here? Do you like it?” They were a group of schoolboys wanting to practice their English and curious about this stranger who so appreciated their traditions. They hadn’t met many foreigners like me and wanted to know everything about where I was from and where I was going. They were really very sweet and upon parting, we shook hands all around.

Stationed along the pool at regular intervals are khalsa guards. Their dress is a wonderful deep blue, knee length tunic with a bright yellow sash and turban. All sport thick black beards and carry a dignified, authoritative bearing that says, “Behave yourself!” Maybe it’s the six-foot, metal-tipped spear they carry at their side that gives the impression they are not to be fooled with.

Thousands of pilgrims come to the Golden Temple each and every day with palpable devotion. The grounds are never closed and even in the wee hours of the morning, you will find a crowd. Perhaps it’s a function of their being a minority subjected to past persecution from both Hindus and Muslims (before Partition) that has engendered in the Sikhs a bearing of dignified steadiness and strength. I feel an affinity for them. They carry a sense of nobility and by reputation are said to have been the best soldiers in the army of the British Raj. Even today, their martial spirit is legendary.

There is an old joke (I ask my Bengali friends to please forgive me) that the British used to tell when their capital was in Calcutta. If they wanted to get something important done, they would form a committee comprised of a Chatterjee, Banerjee, Mukerjee and a Singh. The first three names are typically Bengali and they would do the talking and arguing. The last name is that of a Sikh and he would get the job done.

It was on our way to Dharamasala that we stopped in Amritsar. If you should find yourself in this part of India and are inclined, I highly recommend you stop at the Golden Temple. Visit during the day and then come back after dark for a different experience. Stop too at the Jallianwala Bagh and Wagah (I’ll write about those later.) for a memorable experience. I think you’ll enjoy Amritsar as much as I did.